On Parole -My Step Parents Turned Me In
by GiveMeBooks13
Summary: My parents got divorced. My Mother committed suicide. My father got remarried. He died. I was left with my step mother, and my five younger siblings. Stepmom got remarried. What could be worse? Oh yeah, i'm on parole thanks to my step parents. 'Thanks a lot guys.' *RATED 'T' FOR A REASON* please excuse typos, and please review. I want to know if you like it or not. ;) thnx -GMB13
1. Divorce

As I put my baby, triplet, sisters to bed, I hear a door slam.

I live in a three-bedroom apartment, with my parents, my two year-old sisters, and my six year-old twin brothers. I share a room with my sisters. My brothers share a room and my parents... they _sometimes_ share a room.

My brother's creep into my room, their scared, six year old, faces say it all.

"Hannah?" They '_know'_ that _this _time is when our parents get divorced. I roll my eyes.

I open my arms, "oh, come here." They scoot just inches away from my reach, when I scoop them up onto my hips. The triplets start fussing. "ugh." I grunt. I set the twins on my bed, take the triplets, out of the crib, one on each hip, and one cradled on my fingertips. I hand the twins each a baby, sit down, and snuggle everyone up together, just like we do every time Dad sleeps on the couch.

**Please review**

**l  
l  
l  
l  
l  
l  
V**


	2. Detoxing

**Six months later:**

I walk into my Mom's house, and see the disaster zone, that I get to clean up, every week. I hear the babies crying. I storm through the trash, and find my Mother, lying in her bed, knocked out, with a bottle of beer in her hand. On the other side of the room, the triplets are screaming their heads off. I pick up Heather, and put her on my back. I put Ella and Lucy on my hips. I take the beer bottle with my fingertips, and sling it across the room. It shatters against the wall. My Mother bolts upright, screaming.

"That's it!" I scream, at her. "You are done! From now on, I will be the only person living in this house, with you. You are going to detox, one way or another. I am going to make sure of it."

"Actually, those are my babies, and I have a right to keep them in my house, and take care of them." She sasses.

"That's right. But, if I go to court -which I can do, because I am sixteen- and say that you're drunk, and not fit to take care of them, they will take your kids away from you." I storm off before she can protest. I take the babies out side, and pray that my Dad hasn't left yet. Jacob and Jason are still getting out of the car.

"Thank goodness, you take forever to do everything," I say to them. They stick their tongues out at me. "Dad here are the babies." I put them into their car seats. "You two, get back in the car," I point at the twins.

"What? No." They say together.

"We want to see Mom!" Jacob says.

"Oh no you don't," I push them into the car.

"Why not?" Jason asks.

"Because... She needs to... Do some really important business, that can get dangerous."

My Dad cuts in, "wait, dangerous? If it's dangerous I don't want you in there."

"Dad... She can't do it without me."

"And, what exactly is 'it'?"

"'It' is... Nothing you have to worry about." I bolt inside, and lock the door behind me. I stomp into my Mothers room. She's asleep.

"GET UP!" I scream to the top of my lungs. She jumps up, and darts into the bathroom. I have no idea what that was about.

I hear my Dad screaming on the porch. He's ringing the doorbell nonstop. My Mom strolls out of the bathroom, casually. I step in front of her.

"Do you want your kids back?" I interrogate her.

"No. I _will_ _get them back_, if I have to go to court."

"Bad idea."

"And why is that?"

"Because I would go to court with you. And if I do that, I won't be the only one who knows that you're drunk."

"I am not!"

I pick up a hand full of beer bottles. "So... What? You rented an elephant to drink all this?"

"...Maybe."

"I am going to clean out your fridge, while you clean your bedroom. Pick up all the beer bottles, wine bottles, and... If you have any receipts from a bar, throw them away."

"Why, should I?"

"First step to getting your kids back."

"Mm hm. I think you just want my cat to puke on me, so I don't get sick."

"Um... I don't know any other way to respond to that then 'I think you have drunken more alcohol in a day, then anyone in the world.' And, 'you don't have a cat'. Clean."

All I find in the fridge is alcohol. It makes me wonder what the babies eat and drink, when they're here...


	3. Suicide

For the next week, I go shopping, and my Mom is not aloud to leave the house unsupervised. She is not aloud to drink alcohol.

At times I feel bad for her, as she detoxes. She says she sees spiders coming out of her cup of water -when, really, it's just the ripples. She says she sees giants stomping down the street to eat us -when, really, it's just a pair of joggers. When you think about it, it's sad, really. I try to imagine what she says she sees, try to put myself in her place. Every time I do, I nearly go into shock from the trauma.

One day my Mother starts laughing hysterically, like she's insane. She runs around the living room, jumping on the couches, then recoiling into a ball in a corner. She punches herself continuously, as I try to pin her arms.

"Mom! Quit it! You're hurting yourself!" She doesn't stop.

"_They're coming!_" She screeches.

"Who, Mom?" I ask in a casual voice, trying to calm her.

"_They're coming for me!_"

"MOM!" She pounces out of my grip. I watch, as my Mother bangs her head against the corner of the kitchen counter, deliberately. "MOM! STOP IT!" I am _screaming _at her, yanking on her throat. I find myself so desperate I turn to beating her back with my fists. "Quit it Mom!" I'm choking on my tears. "Please! Their not going to hurt you!" I don't even know whom I'm talking about. But, if it makes her stop, I'll say that she can paint a chicken blue while juggling bowling pins on top of the Leaning Tower of Pisa. "PLEASE MOM! Quit it!" She stops briefly and wipes the blood off of her forehead.

While she's busy licking the blood off of her hand, I have enough time to put my body between the counter and her head. "Mom... ooh, okay, you have to stop this if you keep do-" She bangs her head into my stomach, appearing unaware that she has just blown all the air out of my chest. I grunt, as I grasp for air. Her skull imbeds itself into my bladder. I heave, rolling out of the way of her next blow, which knocks her out. "Huh." I stare at her for a moment. "AHHHHH!" I scream. I start to bawl my eyes out. I scoot my back down the fridge until my butt hits the ground. "Ugh! Why me...!?" I don't stop bawling until I cry myself to sleep, and even then I think I am crying in my sleep.

I wake up in a puddle of sticky, hardening blood. "Ugh, well that was stupid to just leave it here." My Mother is lying on the floor unconscious. I have so much pride, I feel like an idiot right now. I can't believe I didn't just turn her over to the authorities in the first place. I get up, go take a shower, come back, and reach for my phone to call the police. As my fingertips reach the screen of the cellphone, a hand grips my wrist so hard I see blood seep through the fingers. I look up breathlessly; my Mother is clawing at my phone, I watch, in disbelief that her grip can draw blood, as she chucks my phone across the room. It hits the wall and shatters on the ground. "Huh?" I gasp for air. out of nowhere my Mother lets go of my wrist and picks up a knife. "_THEIR COMING FOR ME!_" She screeches. She lifts the knife, and I turn away. Whether she's going to kill me or herself, I can't stop her either way, and I know that.

**Hope you liked, Please review**


	4. Dad -A Groom

"Someone put my wedding dress on me!" Carrie whines at her bride's maids. "Put it on yourself!" I back talk my father's bride to be. My evil stepmother gawks at me. "Now, is that how you talk to your future mother?" Carrie asks. "No." I say, dropping my head and acting ashamed. "It's how I talk to you!" I say cheerfully. "Well, then. Since you don't want to help me with my dress -you can do the honor of putting on my makeup.' "Yeah... about that... don't hold your breath." "Well, with an attitude like that -maybe you don't want to be my brides maid." She says it like it's threatening to me. "Wow. You've been engaged with my dad for a year, and you just figured that out? Well... great job fast thinker." "Cut that out!" "Cut what out?" I ask innocently. "Sassing me!" "Or what?" I ask, "You're goanna go back in time, turn five again, and tell on me to my dad?" She doesn't stop gawking at me until her other brides maids scurry her away to do 'the honor' of putting her makeup on. I lock myself in a bathroom stall and wait until the wedding is over. My father doesn't stop scolding me until he dies. Literally. Carrie doesn't stop harassing us until... well she never really stops, the tormenting of me, and my kids.


	5. What Is Wrong With Bill?

I run. I run, as fast as I can, to get away, from those monsters. After my father died, one month ago, Carrie _remarried_ to this- this- ugh! A month after that, they abused my kids. I got a gun carrier license, and a gun. And, I made sure Bill knew, I was _not_ afraid to use it.

Once I turn eighteen, we are out of here. But, right now, I'm getting impatient.

I hear an engine, from where we came. As we're running through the woods, the car engine get's louder, and closer. I have a two year old, Heather, piggy-backing me, a hand in Jacob's hand, and a hand in Jason's, each of them carrying another triplet. As fast as we're running, we're no chance to get away from the oncoming car. It swerves in front of us, driving the car, Bill has a glare in his eyes, like broken glass.

"Get. In. The. Car." He says it with an expression, on his face, saying 'If you don't do what I say, i'll bury you alive'.

"_Make me._" I release my grip from my brothers', pull my gun out, and aimed it at Bill. I curse at him, all the cuss words I know, until I run out of swears to think of. Bill looks astonished. He opens the car door, and, slowly, steps out. He walks, around the car, stoically. Bill gets so close to me, that the gun is, literally, an inch away from his chest. I raise the barrel to his head. We just stare at each other, for what seems like forever... Then, suddenly, he punches me, upside the face! I drop to the ground. Usually, his punches aren't that hard, (believe me I know) I can usually, like, _not_ fall over. This isn't one of those times. I look over, my vision blurry, and see Heather, holding the gun, that I dropped, and aiming it at Bill. She doesn't know what it is, but she knows it's intimidating. Jacob kicks and punches Bill, continuously. Bill is a statue. I see Jason, out of the corner of my eye, running away with Ella and Lucy.

I black out.


	6. The Attic? Really?

I wake up, to the sound of screaming.

I am tied to a chair, with duct tape over my mouth, and a blind fold over my eyes. I know, for a fact, that i'm in the attic; I can tell, because I recognize the smell. Aside from that, there's the sound of squeaking rats and screeching bats. It's horrific up here, but i've learned to live with it, being that Carey drags my screaming, kicking, flailing body up here when she, her husband, and my kids, are having a 'discussion'. Then she locks the door.

I stand up, -bent over- jump, and then do as much of a front flip as I can do. I, basically, land on my head. The top of the chair cracks, and being that it's an old chair, of which has sat in the attic for who knows how long, it crumbles to pieces. My head knocks on the floor so hard I nearly get a concussion. I rip off the blind fold and duct tape. My lips start to bleed. Despite my pain, I stand straight up and bolt, dizzily, to the source of the horrid sound. The screaming continues. I dart to the attic door. Locked. I curse. "Come on!" I shout, as I slam my body against the door. "Come on! Come on! _AGH!_" So, I got it open.  
I grasp the closest thing I can get my hands on. I barrel down the stairs, "_Get away from them!_" that ought to get their _filthy_ hands off my kids.

You'd think it's okay to spank your children. And I guess it is. But not if their _not your children_ and _I_ am running toward you with a... what do I have in my hand? Oh, a chunk of wood. Right when those, little rabid, rodents see my, blood red, face they _back off_. They take three big steps back. I scoop up my crying kids, and reach for my gun. Oh, yeah... Heather took it. I don't know how Bill got out of that situation.  
Right now I want to simply collapse. But I remain still. Inhale. Exhale. Inhale. Exhale. "I'll be... In my _room_." I growl.

They look scared. Good.


	7. We're Leaving

We sit. For the longest time My kids curl up in my lap, and cry. We all sit on my bed... Well, mat on the floor. "We're leaving." I announce.  
"Thank you," Jacob says.  
"I love you," Jason says.  
"I love you guys, too." I tell them, "Pack your bags."  
"What bags?" Jacob asks. I sigh.  
"You don't have anything to pack." I mumble. "Just..." _Don't cry, don't cry. _"Okay, we leave tomorrow morning."  
_And we're _never _coming back. _

"Stay here," I whisper to the twins, who woke up, to me opening the bedroom door.  
"No. Where are you going?" They say in unison.  
"I have to get the keys, to the car."  
They look at each other, then back at me. "We're coming to."  
"No, you can't." _Think, Think_. "Because, I need you to guard the babies.  
"Guard the babies?"  
_When will they stop getting on my nerves?_ "Jason, what if Bill or Carrie were to wake up, without me knowing? They would come in here, you'd have to run with Ella, Lucy, and Heather as fast as you could."  
"What about me?" Jacob asks.  
"You, Jacob, would unleash your fierce tae kwon do on both of them."  
"Yeah!" He whispers.  
"Now, I need you guys to stand guard. I'll come back for you once I get the keys."


	8. Later Losers

_Where would keys be? _I think to myself. _Yes!_ I see them! On Bills... nightstand... Okay, this won't be hard, as long as I stay quiet. That'll be hard to do, since i'll be holding _keys_.

I reach out for the keys. Slowly, I grab the key chain, and slide it off the nightstand. I snatch all the keys into my hand. They smack together, making a small jingle, then my fist stop the sound waves. Bill and Carrie shift, in their beds. I freeze. I wait. I breathe. They're asleep. I almost leave, when I see my gun, on Carries nightstand. I sneak around the bed, grab the gun, and go. I bolt out of their bedroom, and into my own.  
"Alright hustle up!" I say quietly. "Each of you grab a baby, and let's go!" I scoop up Ella. Jacob has Heather, Jason has Lucy. We run. Out to the front yard, and into the old, rickety jeep. We all hop in, and I start the engine. No, I do not have a license. No, I do not know how to drive. And no, I do not know where I'm going, unless 'away' is a place. I swerve out of the drive way. "LATER LOSERS!" I scream.

Goodbye, Bill and Carrie.


	9. Gas Station Bathrooms

We make a quick turn onto Johnson Blvd., a right onto Kemna Rd., then a left onto Summers St. "Hannah?" Jason Asks.

"Yeah, Jason?"

"Are we going anywhere specific? Or-"

"Jason, we're just getting lost."

"Oh... Okay..." He says. We drive for about twenty-five minutes, until _someone _has to take a potty break. Not naming anyone specific *cough* *cough* Jacob *cough* *cough*

We pull over to a gas station, and we all file out. Oh, gosh, this probably looks illegal. Six kids, from ages three to seventeen, peeling out of a, badly driven, jeep. Alright time to make up a story, as to what the hack is going on. Lets see, 'I was driving with my dad to see how I was, when suddenly he blew out of the car...' yeah, the'll buy that...

We walk in casually, Ella and Lucy on my hips and Heather on Jason's back. Jacob walks into the mens bathroom, and strolls out, with a look of shock on his face, before the door even closes, behind him. "Jacob? What's wrong? Go." I say to him.

"Bad," is all he can muster.

"'Bad'?" I ask.

"Bad." He confirms. I stomp towards the bathroom door, "What's so bad about-?" It's _disgusting_! "Oh," flows through my lips. "That's what's 'bad'." I start gagging, from the- the- yeah, I'm gonna let you live your life _without _a, haunting, description, of the gas station bathroom.

We get back in the car. We leave.


	10. Pulled Over, By a Cop

"Someone put my wedding dress on me!" Carrie whines at her bride's maids. "Put it on yourself!" I back talk my father's bride to be. My evil stepmother gawks at me. "Now, is that how you talk to your future mother?" Carrie asks. "No." I say, dropping my head and acting ashamed. "It's how I talk to you!" I say cheerfully. "Well, then. Since you don't want to help me with my dress -you can do the honor of putting on my makeup.' "Yeah... about that... don't hold your breath." "Well, with an attitude like that -maybe you don't want to be my brides maid." She says it like it's threatening to me. "Wow. You've been engaged with my dad for a year, and you just figured that out? Well... great job fast thinker." "Cut that out!" "Cut what out?" I ask innocently. "Sassing me!" "Or what?" I ask, "You're goanna go back in time, turn five again, and tell on me to my dad?" She doesn't stop gawking at me until her other brides maids scurry her away to do 'the honor' of putting her makeup on. I lock myself in a bathroom stall and wait until the wedding is over. My father doesn't stop scolding me until he dies. Literally. Carrie doesn't stop harassing us until... well she never really stops, the tormenting of me, and my kids.


	11. Day Care 'Yay'

"I love you," I tell my kids, as I drop them off, at a day care center, "Behave, and don't talk to strangers." They hug me, and I start walking, away. I turn around, and add, "Oh, and that includes the other kids! Don't talk to the adults, either! Just, talk to each other, okay?"

"_Okay_." The twins say, together.

"Hey, don't you sass me. Right now, I'm on my way, to keep you from living with total _strangers_. Do you want to live with strangers?" They look scared.

"No." They say, in an uncomfortable harmony.

"Heck right, you don't!" With that, I leave.


	12. The Court House

The elevator opens, and the first things I see, are the hideous faces, of my step parents. "Hannah!" They're enraged, until they see the cop, standing behind me. Immediately, their expressions change to joy-filled. They outstretch their arms, "Hannah! We're so _glad _you're okay!" They come toward me, trying to give me a too-tight hug. "We were so worried about-"

"Oh, save your breath!" I snap. "Let's just get this over with, so I don't have to see your faces, for the_ rest _of my _life_." Within a millisecond, their expressions are furious. But, then, as soon as they came, they left, changing to faces full of pity. And it looks like... they're pity is... for me... Of course, it's fake, but that's just _gross._ They would never, _never_, feel bad for me.

"Oh, Hannah... That must have been terrible, out there in the cold, cruel-"

"House. Yeah. In your house? _Yes_. Cold, and cruel; as usual." I retort. The cop, behind me interrupts, and tells us to proceed, into the court room. (After putting away his book, of notes, he's been taking, about us.)

In the court room, it starts out with Bill and Carrie being 'sweet', and 'caring'. Then backfires on them, when I show the jury my scars, from them beating my, with whatever they could get their hands on. It seems to be going well, on my part, until Bill and Carrie deny _everything._ And they swear they take care of me and my kids, and if anything has ever happened, in the past, or will happen, in the future, then they will take full responsibility, of their actions. *Aren't they so _nice_?* UGH!

The jury decides, they were innocent. Bill and Carrie sign some papers, and they have full custody, over me and my kids, until I turn eighteen. It's a good thing that's only _four _freaking _months _away.

Bill and Carrie drive me, to the day care, to pick up my kids. They're astonished when they see what's happened. "They _what_?!" Jason and Jacob question.

"They said, Bill and Carrie are _innocent_." I tell them.

"But- but- how could they _possibly _be innocent?" Jason asks. Bill and Carrie are driving, up front. Probably planning how they're going to torture us, when we get to their house. Spanking. Beating. Cutting. Burning._ Shooting_.


	13. Spankings

Well, I was right about one of the tortures; spankings. But not for the three-year olds, or the seven-year olds, no, _I_ get spanked.

Bill takes me by the hair, and drags me inside, while Carrie locks my kids in the car. "OW! Bill!" I screech, "Let go!" He yanks my head down, when he opens the door. "Get in the house!" He barks. He shoves me to the ground, closes the door, and yanks me, right back up, by my hair. As we walk, through the house, he make sure he's in the lead, at all times. This way, he can cause me pain, for the entire time we walk.

He takes me, into his bedroom, and throws me on the bed. "Ugh!" I whimper. The first time I try to get up, I get whipped, on the butt, with a belt! He does this repeatedly, until start to cry. Of course, I try to resist. I get up, multiple times. But I'm face down, he pushes me downward, each time I think I'm up.

Finally, he gets a, tight, grip on my forearm, and throws me, onto the floor, of my bedroom. I land on my face. My nose starts to bleed. My rear feels like it's been sitting on a stove, for an hour. And, my kids are locked in a hot car, without air conditioning.

If it weren't for my, obsession, over my kids, I would have committed suicide, the day my father left.

Believe it, or not. I would have.


	14. Crime

I shove a, mini, pack of chips, up, into my jacket. _What am I doing?! I can't steel. Especially not from a gas station._ I grab two more bags of Funions, and another bag of pretzels. That should be good for dinner, since Carrie 'took away our dinner _privileges_', for two nights, in a row. I tell you, they are _mentally_ _ill_. I slip a pack of gum, into my pocket, and go. This gas station, is a really bad one. So, hopefully, it doesn't have security camera's. Without stopping, I exit, and my kids, who were waiting outside, followed.

We eat, huddled in the corner of my room, until our food runs out. I crumple up the bags, and throw them out the window. Wishing I could fly, away, I watch, as they drift to the ground. I turn, to face my kids, when I hear a gruff voice say, "Hey!" It's Bill, "One; we said, no dinner. Two; littering is illegal. And, three; Where'd you get this from?!"

"Run," I mumble, to my kids. "Run, as fast as you can. If Carrie gets in your way, kick her. Punch her, right between her rib cages; it'll make her vomit." I tell them this, barely moving my lips, so that, Bill can't read my mouth. "Yes sir!" I yell, down to him. "I'll pick those up. I'm sorry for disobeying you. And... I got it from..." He stares at me, I don't know what to say. What do I say? I look back, and see my kids are gone. _Yes! _"I'll be right back, okay? I have to go, to the bathroom." I shout to Bill. I run, downstairs, and catch up with my kids. I grab Lucy, from Jason, and run. I grab Carrie's wallet, off the table, in the foyer, on my way out.

Once outside, I snap open, the hood, of the car. I yank out random wires, unscrew some stuff, and shoot a tire, with my gun. After that, we run, as fast as we can. I catch a taxicab, and we're off.


End file.
